The Gypsy Queen
by Loony Lemon Curry
Summary: There are two big pirate captains left in the Spanish Main, Captain Jack Sparrow and The Gypsy, Captain of the pirate vessel "the Gypsy Queen." After her crew commits mutiny, Fey, or "the Gypsy" will do anything to get it back. Anything.
1. The Crows Nest?

Hello everyone! Welcome to my first PotC fic. I hope you enjoy it, because if you don't then me and my pirate buddies with hunt you down and gut you like the slimy dead fish that you are, savvy?  
  
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In the dark of the night in Tortuga, stepping over the drunks passed out every which way in the main street, and past the whores thrusting their cleavage invitingly at men, and threateningly at other women, and through the ale-sticky streets, walked a strange woman. She was dressed like a gypsy: the skirt hanging off her hips hung to her calves and appeared to consist of approximately a dozen different scarves, none of which matched the other, and all very brightly coloured. On the hem were little silver circles that jingled as she walked. Such a skirt would seem nearly dainty, if it hadn't been for the knee high, sturdy black leather boots that were under it. She was wearing a billowing white blouse, tied around her forearms, causing it to bellow even more, and had an extremely scooped neck, and over that a very tight black vest that worked as a sort of corset to push her breasts up. Fortunately (although that's not what men thought of it,) her blouse had been pulled up from under the vest to cover the majority of said cleavage. But it wasn't just her clothing (or her cleavage) that attracted so much attention to this woman; it was her face.  
  
She was beautiful, and dangerous. Though her clothes spoke of the Romany Gypsy people, the rest of her certainly did not. The first thing one noticed about her was her hair. Her hair hung in natural loose ringlets down to her waist. It was a mixture of various shades of red and gold, ranging from dark red to light blonde. Over-all, it was a bronze- gold colour. She had tan, slightly sun-burned skin with a light dusting of freckles on her dainty nose. Her large, sad hazel eyes contrasted sharply with her sarcastic mouth, which was at the moment mumbling darkly.  
  
As this strange character moved quickly through the streets, she seemed not to notice the stares people gave her, and how they almost avoided her. Maybe that was because she was beautiful. Or because she looked completely mad. She was talking to herself, and gesturing wildly with her hands, causing the many bangles on her arms to jingle in time with the jingly things on her skirt. The lamplight caught in the silver jewelry all over her body: the multitudes of bracelets on her arms, the four rings on her fingers, the large hoop earrings (and a few smaller ones) in her ears, and the small silver-embedded emerald in her left nostril. She carried on her back a strangely shaped bag, shaped like a pear with a long stick on the end. Sticking out of the bag were the hilts of two swords, crossed diagonally across each other: her infamous double swords.  
  
Even the drunks in the middle of passing out stopped to stare at this odd (and evidently crazy) woman. People recognized her and many either waved at her, or ran and hid from her. Some seemed on the verge of bowing down to her and worshiping. Of course, she was know to everyone in all the islands and many of the countries in the ocean. For she was the infamous and mysterious woman pirate know as "the Gypsy Queen," or just Gypsy. But right now, all infamy and mystery aside, she was intent on one thing: drowning herself completely in a large tankard of rum.  
  
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On the other side of the town was an equally strange and mad looking character. He was known to most (especially the town whores). As he swaggered (his walk seemed to be the epitome of the word) up from the door of his inn to the nearest tavern, the Faithful Bride, people stopped to look at him, pirates stopped to slap him on the back, and prostitutes stopped to slap him in the face. He took it all in as if he were watching it as a spectator. As he walked towards the tavern, he could smell the rum and sped up a bit, until right in front of him was a woman. Normally he would have gone around such an obstacle, but he took one look at her face and winced.  
  
"Why haven't you come to see me?!" the woman shrieked.  
  
"Listen love, I only just got in, I promise. I was actually on my way to see you!"  
  
"Jack! I wait and wait for you to come, and when you're finally back in Tortuga, you don't even come to see me!" By this time the woman was sobbing uncontrollably.  
  
'Why does she always find me when I'm so close to rum?!' Jack thought. By now he was growing impatient.  
  
"How about we discuss this after I've had something to drink, eh?"  
  
She gasped indignantly. "Your rum always comes first doesn't it! You never even have time for poor, little Sarah, who sticks by you so faithfully!"  
  
'Sarah! That's the one!' Jack barely had the time to get the thought out before a hand struck him across the face so hard he fell backwards into the dirt.  
  
"Well I hope I never see you again, Jack Sparrow." She turned abruptly around and stomped away.  
  
"I knew there was I reason I didn't break up with that one," Jack said to himself, rubbing his cheek where a large hand-shaped spot was beginning to emerge. He shouted after her, "BLOODY WOMAN! AND THAT WOULD BE 'CAPTAIN' JACK TO YEH!" He stood up and continued on his way, in a much darker mood.  
  
He was not happy when he soon found himself back on his arse glaring up at another woman who had knocked him down by simply walking into him.  
  
"What the hell is with you stupid women tonight!" Jack growled and he jumped to his feet. When he was standing again he looked at the woman and was surprised to see that it was not another of his whore friends, but instead someone who he never thought he would meet under the current circumstances.  
  
"Excuse me, but I am not going to be grouped into the category of 'stupid women' and if you don't take it back I'm afraid I will have to make you take it back!"  
  
Jack glared his only real competition for the title of "best damn pirate in the Spanish Main." She was also, incidentally, his only actual rival in the category of "bloody craziest pirate ever to sail the seas." He sneered at her. "Oh, and how were yeh going to do that, woman?"  
  
In less than a second her black pack that was on her back was on the ground and her swords were at his throat. "Like this, mate."  
  
Jack had his sword up in an instant and said, "If yeh'lll challenge me to an honorable fight, yeh'd put one of those away and fight me as I am." She hesitated then complied. Then Jack continued, "are you sure you want to do this, love? Ye'll be crossing blades with the best swordsman in the Caribbean."  
  
"And yeh'll be crossing blades with the best swordsperson in the Caribbean."  
  
He attacked her, she parried. She attacked, he parried, He attacked, she twisted away and struck so that he barely had time to attack. Thus began one of the best fencing matches the rapidly gathering spectators had ever seen, and one of the most evenly matched. They gasped in wonder as the two sparring pirates jumped off barrels and balconies attacking with gusto, and somehow managing to keep up a conversation:  
  
"Don't use yer gender against me."  
  
"You were the one who brought sex into it. Yeh called me a stupid woman."  
  
"Well, so I did. But I love anything that has to do with sex."  
  
"That's not what I meant and yeh know it. However, I am led to believe that you must be severely deprived of said activity."  
  
"Not at all! I have constant companions in the bedroom, on the desk, in the bar, in the crows nest. . ."  
  
"Crows nest?! There goes me guess that yeh were a eunuch."  
  
Jack paused in his attack to glare at her. "How can someone as positively manly as me be a eunuch?"  
  
"Manly?! Huh, since yeh claim not to be a eunuch, me second guess was that you were a transvestite."  
  
Now Jack stopped and gaped at her, barely remembering to lift his sword to parry her still vicious attack. "What in hell, my dear lady, led you to that demented conclusion?!"  
  
"You're vainer than a peacock and wear as much make-up as a well bred lady. Not to mention that your hair is longer than one's."  
  
"I'll have you know that my look is positively frightening, and extremely manly. I saw the way yeh looked at me when yeh first. . . .eh . . . bowled me over. Yeh want me. Admit it! I turn yeh on! I'd be happy to show yeh around the crows nest on me boat.or yer crow nest, whatever suits yer fancy."  
  
"Yeh'll kindly not bring me ship into this." The Gypsy growled.  
  
"Oh, something happen to yer precious "Gypsy Queen," then? I hear she's a lovely boat. . ."  
  
"If you don't shut yer mouth, I'll gladly castrate you. I still like the idea of yer being a eunuch."  
  
The two were completely oblivious to the crowd around them. The fight had been going on for a full 15 minutes, the longest man to [wo]man fight either of them had either engaged in. They were both getting tired, something that neither was used to.  
  
"Alright, milady, if that happens, and you manage to best me, I'll buy you a drink, but if I win, you buy me one, savvy?"  
  
"Aye. Good luck with that."  
  
In a few minutes, the two found themselves pressed together tightly, and Jack, cocky, impudent Jack, glanced down to where their chests were crushed together and remarked, "My, I quite like the view from up here. Why, I could get used to this quite easily."  
  
In an instant, the Gypsy had shoved herself away from him, dropped her sword and smacked him across the face so hard Jack spun around and landed on his face in the dirt. The crowd "oooh"ed and "aaahhh"ed at this new maneuver which so far only women involved with Jack Sparrow seemed to have acquired. "Dammit, woman!" Jack shouted at her, turning over, but staying on the ground. "You slap much better than any whore I've ever met!"  
  
She leaned over him, showing her cleavage again and said in a husky, seductive voice, "I do a lot of things much better than any whore yeh'll ever met."  
  
Jack drooled for a second, then corrected himself and frowned at her. "How come yer allowed to say suggestive, dirty things, but I'm not?"  
  
"Because I'm a woman."  
  
"Aha, now yer bringing sex into the conversation."  
  
"Sex was already in the conversation. The conversation was sex."  
  
Jack thought about that for a second. Then in the blink of an eye, he was on his feet, standing behind the Gypsy with her own sword pressed against her throat. He pressed up tight against her and said extremely sexily into her ear, "In that case, I would be honored to take the conversation to a whole new level. Oh yeah, and ye owe me a drink."  
  
She groaned and lifted her arms in submission. "I can't believe I was just beaten by a man who wears more make-up than I do." When Jack let her go, she said, "I will castrate you yet."  
  
"Aye, but that would make further such conversations impossible."  
  
"No, mate, it would make them more amusing for me, and more painful for you. Now about that drink."  
  
"One thing, lassie. I have to ask yeh a question." She raised one eyebrow as if to say 'go on, ask,' and he said, "What's yer real name?"  
  
She looked at him, hesitating, and then said, "Maeve. Or you can call me Fey." She turned towards the tavern.  
  
"Exactly how are the two related?"  
  
Fey sighed. "I really don't want to explain this now, I want me rum and then I want to sleep. But if you must know. Maeve is my real Irish name, but when I was little I would run around like a wild child and people of my village in Ireland decided I was like a little wild fairy. I've been 'Fey' since I could walk."  
  
"I thought I recognized an Irish accent. How'd'yeh get into the pirating professing, if I may ask, oh wild woman of my soul?"  
  
"Look, let's go get pissed off our asses. No more ques-"  
  
His voice cut her off. "Hold up, one more question."  
  
She groaned. "Yer keeping me away from me rum!"  
  
He chuckled and said, "This is my last question."  
  
"Ask"  
  
"Have you ever done it in a crows nest?" He just barely ducked the rock that came flying at his head.  
  
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What did you all think? Did yeh like it? Please review, or I'll not post anything else. Please!!!! I had a lot of fun writing this. IMPORTANT NOTE! If there is anyone who wants to co-write it (preferably someone who is already an author so I can read your stuff and see if it's what I want) please contact me at Loony314@aol.com Please put "your fic" or "Gypsy Queen" in the subject of the e-mail or something like it. Really anything but "enlarge your penis three inches in one week!" will do. Cheers! 


	2. Rum

Hello again, sorry it took so long, but I was in LA. Guess what! I got checked out by a famous person! Ok, so, he was a midget, but I can deal. Yes, that's right my people, "Wee-man" from "Jackass" thought I was good- looking (well, it is common knowledge that I am). Ok, anycrap, I'm writing this next chapter and I hope you enjoy it! I've changed the main character's name, since neither I nor my beta thought it fit. Mucho Gracias to my wonderful, fantastic, beautiful, talented beta, Lydia (wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more!) thanks for cleaning up the crap I leave behind in my story (how was that for a touching metaphor, eh? I think I'm improving!)  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Jack had never met a woman who could hold that much rum. Hell, most men couldn't. His pride was very nearly cut down as she beat him to her fifth pint.  
  
"How d'you do that, love?" Jack had to shout over the noise of the tavern: the screaming, laughing, barking, and fighting.   
  
Fey glanced up at him. "Do what?"  
  
"Yeh've nearly beaten my record for the most rum capacity!"  
  
"Eh. I've got a lot on me mind. It won't really set in 'til later."  
  
"Care to share?"  
  
  
  
"No." She went back to nursing her latest mug of rum, sipping it more slowly now. Jack wasn't put off easily. He was intrigued by this strange, beautiful, insane woman, and there was something about her that he couldn't quite understand. She wasn't telling him something. How did one go from living in a small town in Ireland to being one of the most feared and respected pirates in the entire ocean? So, being Jack, he asked the first thing that came to his head.  
  
"All right, lass, you just let me know when that alcohol settles in, then I'll get you acquainted to my ship and her captain's quarters..."  
  
Fey looked up interestedly.  
  
". . . and the bed," Jack finished. The disgusted woman leaned back with a disappointed groan and covered her eyes with her arm.  
  
Of course, she thought, this was Captain Jack Sparrow, it's not like he could be kind for once. "For a minute there, mate, I thought you might have had a generous thought in your mind. Well, ferget about that." (A/N, it's supposed to be spelled like that, she's got an Irish accent, remember?)  
  
"Now, lass, why d'you say that?"  
  
"Well, a gentleman would share his ship to help me get me own back."  
  
"Ahh. Now you see, that's why I'm a pirate and not a gentleman."  
  
Fey rolled her eyes. This man was blind. And stupid. And diabolically good-looking. She leaned forward and looked right into his eyes as she spoke.  
  
"Let me tell you something, mate. I can tell by looking at you what sort of pirate you are. Yeh live for adventure. Yeh love and fight yeh love to take risks. Yer not easily scared. Although yeh love the treasure, yeh'd do it without the pay any day." She sipped daintily at her rum.  
  
Jack stared at her, his jaw dropping. "How'd you know all that?"  
  
"Yer jus' like me. But think about it, mate. How much fun would that all be without any competition? Without someone to fight with for the best steals? Without fake alliances and true enemies? It wouldn't be good at all! It just wouldn't be worth it. Yeh need me."  
  
"Aye, but now the mystery's gone. I know who y'are. I know what yer like. I know all about you."  
  
"Alright then, what does me name mean? Maeve, what does it mean? Anyone who really knew me could tell."  
  
He glared at her. "Fine, but the mystery is still slightly gone. What is it you want me to do anyway?"  
  
"I want yeh to help me get me ship back."  
  
Jack spat out the mouthful of rum he had in his mouth. "Hones'ly woman! How'm I t'do that?! I can't just sacrifice everything for you and yer ship!" He sighed and looked at her thoughtfully for a while. "On the other hand, yer right. It wouldn't be half the fun without you and yer ship. I'll tell you what, Lady Maeve. If you tell me why you're without yer ship, I'll consider letting you stay on me boat for a bit."  
  
"Wait, did you say 'boat'? What happened to 'ship?" She looked at him suspiciously. "This is the Black Pearl we're talking about, right?"  
  
"Well . . ."  
  
"WHAT d'yeh MEAN, Mr. Sparrow? Where is your ship?! "  
  
"Captain Sparrow, if you please, mate," he muttered, turning red with embarrassment, but still managing to salvage some of his pride."Eh. . ." he coughed, "about the Pearl ..."  
  
"Yes..." she prompted.  
  
Jack sighed. He had been leading her on the whole time and was starting to feel guilty. Almost.   
  
"Well, you know how you were mutinied? Well," Jack chuckled bleakly, "welcome to the club, love."  
  
"You? Your crew left you?"  
  
Another sigh. "Yes."  
  
"When?"  
  
Yet another sorrowful sigh. "Nigh two years ago."  
  
She countered his sigh with a groan and leaned back again, covering her eyes with an arm as if trying to prevent the truth from entering her head as well as the on-coming massive headache that was about to attack. She had bought the man a drink for nothing. Her whole plan was down the drain. She had been willing to do anything. She had nearly seduced the man, for God's sake! And to find out that he himself was without a ship... She groaned again. All was lost.  
  
Jack felt almost sympathetic towards her. "Listen, love, I have a proposition for you."  
  
"What?" she said sharply.  
  
Jack winced. "I do have a boat. Not a grand ship, mind you, but she'll work. It's small, but it's fast. Listen. Are we not the two most feared pirates in the Caribbean?"  
  
"Well, I suppose that is true," he said with considerate pride.   
  
Jack smiled. "Look, why don't we go together and try to get our ships back?"  
  
She lifted her arm and peered at him from under it. She hesitated a moment. "Mine first." She replaced the arm over her eyes and leaned back again.  
  
Jack sighed for the billionth time. "Fine, yours first." He was starting to grin. This would be some adventure. Just the thing he needed. The past two years had been torture. He had had to steal a small boat from his friend Anamaria. Fey would be disappointed when she saw it he knew. But it was all they had.  
  
"Now you said that your crew committed mutiny. Did they leave you alone on an island?"  
  
"Aye"  
  
"Oh. So how'd you escape."  
  
"Prolly the same way you did." She was going this whole conversation just lying down with an arm flung across her eyes, and speaking very blandly.   
  
"You bartered your way on board a trade vessel?"  
  
"Not a trade vessel. Another pirate ship."  
  
"Em, if you don't mind me asking, what did you use for bartering?"  
  
For the first time in the discussion she lifted her arm and looked at him. "If you were a desperate, attractive young woman with one choice, give them your body, or die, what would you do?"  
  
"How did you survive for a week on a tiny little island?"  
  
"Large coconuts."  
  
"No, that's how you got away."  
  
"Har har har, very amusing, Captain Sparrow." She looked at him. "Now if you would be so kind as to stop looking at said coconuts. . ."  
  
Jack moved up his gaze so that it rested on her face. She squirmed a bit, slightly unnerved by his intense gaze. She wanted to change the subject. "So how'd you get away from your lovely island?  
  
"Same way you did."  
  
"I knew yeh were woman."  
  
"Very funny. It wasn't as hard for me, the men didn't find my body quite appealing."   
  
"--Although I don't doubt yeh tried to change their minds. . ."  
  
"Hilarious, mate, I assure you I'm laughing on the inside," he said dryly. Then his expression went from sarcastic to thoughtful. "What happened to those men who hurt you?"  
  
"I don't know. But if I ever see those lousy bastards again, I'll rip them to pieces and make a necklace out of their severed privates."  
  
Pause.  
  
"That was truly nasty."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"What is it with you and castrating people?"  
  
  
  
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Hehe, thanks for reading it, (if you even DID!) and review to tell me how you feel about it. And to clear up the accent question (since Lydia was concerned, I figured others were as well) I'm keeping her accent very Irish, and Jack has a unique one, and he does say both "yeh" and "you" depending on whether there was a vowel next, and schtuff like that, so there y'are! REVIEW! Cheers! 


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